.

So far... The reborn Hermione launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now at Hogwarts, the young girl formed CREST from the trusted members of the old D.A. After an exciting first year, the youngsters are back at school – but Snape made Ron totally unnoticeable except to Olive Hornby, who'd been affected for 50 years. They discovered a mysterious gate into a dome of thorns in the Forest. On their return, Hermione gave them an antidote. Meanwhile, in Devil's Deep prison, Rita Skeeter hatched a daughter, Imogene, who Hermione promises to help. Now read on...

.

Chapter 57

Seraphic Descendant


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Luna's Top Secret Plan

After being unnoticed for so long, Ron was now enjoying a new minor celebrity status, and liked retelling his experiences. Having exhausted the Gryffindors' interest, he'd taken to sitting with Olive at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast, and Hermione watched him waving his forked sausage about as he chatted happily away to all those within earshot.

Harry had observed her keeping one eye on Ron, so he said, "Still can't believe I never noticed him while he was around. I sometimes had an odd sensation in the back of my mind that someone was listening to us talk, but it didn't seem important."

"I feel uncomfortable about it too," said Hermione, "but it can't be helped."

She gazed upwards hopefully as the first wave of the morning's owls began swooping in. One by one, other faces turned to see, some with eager hope, others enviously, while some, like Dean who had a Muggle post arrangement, showed no interest at all. The twins played it cool as usual. Sally-Anne had a regular, alternate day, pen pal exchange with a girl in Europe and rose up when she recognised her friend's owl. Parvati too, stood, but slowly sank back down with a confused expression on her face.

"Expecting a grey as well, Parv?" said Sally-Anne, opening her own letter and not paying much attention to Parvati's reply.

"Uumm... not sure." A frown crossed the girl's face as she kept staring at new birds arriving.

"Looks like another inquisition from Ron's mum," said Neville, pointing at a bird swooping down towards the Ravenclaw table. "She's been fussing him everyday to make up for lost time."

Harry's head lifted up, but a different, larger owl caught his attention as it spiralled down towards the Slytherin table. "I see Draco's got a package from his parents as well."

Hermione glanced across. "They spoil him terribly. It's probably another new robe, going on the shape of the parcel and his stupid grin." Her eyes flickered further along, six or seven seats away from Malfoy, where Blaise Zabini was managing two owls at once, one burdened with the morning's Daily Prophet.

Ginny said, "Hope there's nothing more about Ron in the news – his head's big enough already."

Luna let go her cereal spoon to pat Ginny's hand. "Wish I had a big brother like yours – or an eagle owl would be nice instead." She waved as the great bird departed Malfoy's table.

"Aha!" grinned Harry, "Ron must have heard and wants to swap Ginny for you, Luna."

Sure enough, Ron was walking over, his breakfast forgotten.

"Hooray!" cried Luna, "I always wanted a sibling!"

There was a clatter as Parvati's spoon dropped into her empty dish. She swung her legs over the bench and dashed towards the exit, leaving her bag behind.

"What's up with her?" said Harry.

Sally-Anne said, "She's been out of sorts all year – mood swings and so on. It's a girl-growing-up thing." She picked up Parvati's schoolbag and rose to her feet.

"I think it's a boy," whispered Fay. "Finish your porridge. I'll go after her," and she took the bag from Sally-Anne who nodded thanks to her departing friend.

As Ron arrived at the Gryffindor table, he said, "Hermione, is there any chance that potion might still be affecting Olive a bit?"

"No, Why?" said Hermione, staring forlornly at the departing owls.

"Only she's getting on fine with the other second-years but..."

"But what?"

"Well, sometimes while they're getting ready for bed and chatting about things that happened during the day, Olive feels a bit uuh... out of it, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't. It'll take time for her to be fully accepted, especially since her interests are from a different era. Didn't you say your dad had invited her over to The Burrow for Easter?"

"Er... yeah, not to stay though, just for a day."

"So Mrs Weasley wants to see what your new friend is like as well as fuss over you?"

"Think it's more that Dumbledore spoke to my dad about finding her auntie."

"Goodness! Hope nothing's happened to her, she's – what's Olive doing on the other days then if she's got no home of her own yet? Coming back to Hogwarts? That's a bit odd."

"Dunno."

"Unlikely," smirked Ginny, continuing in a sing-song mimic of Olive, "One more minute in Hogwarts would be one minute too long. Absolutely nothing, could compel me to stay except bighead over there."

"Alright, alright," scowled Ron, "so she needs me. I don't mind."

"Don't mind?" sniggered Ginny, "you're lapping it up."

"Have you kissed her yet?" said Luna, shovelling Wheaty Worms into her mouth where the last of them wriggled vainly to escape her milk-drooling lips. She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. "Me and Neville have. Three times not counting little pecks."

"And Easter's round the corner," smiled Neville, contentedly.

"What's at Easter?" said Harry, then added with a little snigger, "A fourth snog?"

"Well..."

Luna said, "We're staying at Hogwarts again to scavenge the Forest edge."

Neville nodded and reached for the marmalade. "Luna's had one of her brilliant ideas."

"Well, watch out for the blue – oh yeah, I forgot! Me and Olive saw a blue light in the Forest and a big thorny dome thing. Oh, and a huge gate."

"It's the abominables! I knew it! They light up blue lanterns and dance and sing!" Luna's head tilted happily as she began pondering the possibilities.

"Well, if it's a lantern, it's a bloomin' big one!" cried Ron. "More like a giant's wicker lampshade woven with really tall thorn trees."

"There are no tall thorn trees in this part of the world," said Neville sagely. "It's too cold. They only thrive in the tropics."

"Yeah, well, the blue light makes it warmer."

"A microclimate?" said Hermione.

"A what?" said Neville.

"It's a Muggle term. It means a climate that's different to the surrounding area, rather like a natural greenhouse."

"There was nothing natural about that place." Ron shuddered at the memory, though he did not know why. "Someone or... something ... built it."

"Abominables," said Luna quite dreamily, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. She unrolled a sheet of parchment and quickly sketched out a rough outline of the Forest with a square to its west marking the castle as a reference. "Show me where you saw the blue lantern."

Ron pulled a face. "You're joking! You can't just walk to it, that'd take weeks – with danger all the way!"

"But the baby abominable snowmen are worth it! Show me."

"You can't go, Luna!" cried Hermione and Ginny, almost together.

"I have a top secret plan," Luna smiled serenely. "It's quick and it's safe."

"You have?" blinked Neville in surprise.

Ron shook his head and, with a knowing grin, said, "It's a broomstick isn't it? You can't fly quickly or safely through on a broomstick, and anyway, it's a closed dome – a dome of thorns.

Luna's face fell. "Oh, is it? I thought you said it was a lampshade? Won't it be open at the top?"

"No! It's... well... I couldn't actually see the top. But the walls of thorn arched over away from us at the top."

"Like a giant lampshade!" Luna clapped her hands. "I'm sure the big blue light is at the middle and everyone knows a lampshade is open at the top to let out the heat. That settles it. Would you mark it on the map for me?"

"Sounds more like an enormous wicker crab pot to me," said Ginny, "and we know what happens to the crabs."

Ron shook his head. "Luna, there's a gate. Me and Olive couldn't push it open but someone else might be able to."

"And walk right into the arms of the abominable snowmen?" smiled Luna knowingly. "It's safer to observe from above, don't you think? Then we can make friends."

Hermione said, "Luna, you shouldn't do this. It's extremely dangerous and you'll get into all sorts of trouble even if you get back in one piece."

"But I have a top secret plan!" pouted Luna. "Trust me."

Hermione sighed. "Okay, let's hear it."

Luna frowned. "But then it wouldn't be top secret would it? Anyone can see that."

Ron started to open his mouth. Hermione's brow creased. "I know that look, Ron. Keep your mouth totally zipped shut, right?"

Ron scowled. "In case you hadn't noticed, Hermione, I'm a big boy now and I can manage my life quite well, thank you." He turned to Luna, hesitated, then said, "Erm... sorry, but I'm with Hermione on this one, Luna. I won't tell you where it is."

Ginny snickered.

"It doesn't matter." Luna shrugged her shoulders. "You've already said it's a long way so it can't be on this side. That means its on the opposite side to the east. Also, the thorns would prefer south to north because it's warmer. Therefore it must be southeast."

She watched Ron's face closely but he grinned. "I'm not falling for that old trick." He glanced sideways at Hermione. "See?" then continued, "Luna, you'll get nothing out of me."

"But I just did," said Luna with a smile. "If it was really southeast your right eyebrow would have risen slightly higher than your left with surprise. So it must be northeast."

"Damn you, Luna! That's not fair!"

"Ah, so it is northeast then?"

"Aaaaghhhh!" Ron slapped his forehead and trudged back to the Ravenclaws.

"Oh... I thought he'd be pleased to be noticed a bit," said Luna.

But a few of the Ravenclaws had already finished their meal and were beginning to leave – as were other students. Harry looked at his watch. "Luna, we've got Defence first class so why not ask Quirrell about the abominables? He'd know what dark creatures live in this country and how to defend against them."

He exchanged glances with Hermione. She understood immediately he was hoping Quirrell would convince Luna that abominable snowmen were strictly isolated in the Himalayas.

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Ron Sees The Light

They waited for Ginny to finish her oats then joined the rising throngs of students making their way out of the Great Hall. Ron was soon hurrying after them, carefully skirting the clumps of Slytherins also moving in the same direction. It was not easy. A shoulder was against his. His schoolbag was jostled. He caught a glimpse of Zabini staring at him forcefully with a finger to his lips for a few seconds only – then the various eddies of children swirled in new directions and Ron was left wondering what that attempt at communication had been all about. Keep quiet about what? he wondered.

"Wish we could have Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws instead of the stinking Slytherins," Ron moaned to his sister as they took their seats together.

"So you could sit with Olive instead of me?" said Ginny with her nose in the air in a pretence of aloof indifference. "I'm not good enough company now, is that it?"

"Course not!" hissed Ron as Professor Quirrell prepared to address the class. "She still needs me, Ginny." He stared forward at the Professor's desk, and added in a low voice, "What's that smokey thing in the glass tank for?"

"Take out your Basic Jinxes textbooks and turn to page 84, the Knockback," began the teacher. "We are fortunate this morning to have been contributed a Hinkypunk by a kind benefactor. This vaporous will-o'-the-wisp can lead the unwary astray so you need to know ..."

As Quirrell continued, Ron stared in disbelief at the envelope he'd just discovered just inside his bag on top of his textbook. It was secured with a plain wax seal, leaving no indication as to who it was from. "Hermione?" he whispered. "This is addressed to you." While Quirrell turned to inspect his captive creature in its tank, Ron leaned sideways and handed over the letter to Harry who dutifully passed it on after a quick glance.

Mouth twisting in puzzlement for a few moments, Hermione soon realised who it must be from and slipped it away in her own bag, pulling out a pair of Herbology goggles as she did so, then cast a darkening charm upon them.

"Aren't you going to read it?" murmured Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

"Later."

"Right, everyone wearing their protective goggles or glasses?" said Quirrell.

"Eh? What?" Ron scrabbled in his bag. Harry snickered and Ron saw his friend's spectacles had been transformed into sunglasses, and Luna, well, Luna was wearing a brightly coloured pair of what appeared to be dual kaleidoscopic lenses set in cardboard; Ron gaped entranced.

"Lumos Duo!" Quirrell cried quite forcefully.

"AAAGHHH!" yelled Ron, cupping his hands over his eyes.

Quirrell sighed. "There's always one, isn't there? Five points from Gryffindor." He walked over and cast an easing charm on Ron's eyes. "Your sight will recover in a minute or two."

Ron kept his face in his hands, hoping the bright dancing spots would go away, and murmuring to one side, "You might have warned me, Hermione."

"Me?" smirked Hermione. "Oh, sorry, I thought you could manage your life yourself now, Ronald."

"So you see," resumed Quirrell, "the Hinkypunk is dazed and become solid, enabling me to use the Knockback Jinx. One would need to use the spell several times but for this practice session I want each of you to use it only once. In an emergency, this method is also quite useful against the dark creatures I've listed on the blackboard, or even humans, as we've just seen. Any questions? ... Yes, Miss Lovegood?"

Ron heard Luna's voice pipe up in a doubtful tone, "Is that list complete? What if we used the double light spell on an abominable snowman?"

The class erupted into laughter, and even Quirrell smiled. "Rest assured, there are absolutely no yetis anywhere in the British Isles, Miss Lovegood. And by the way, thank your father for me again; this Hinkypunk is a wonderful specimen."

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First Hug

The Easter holidays arrived soon enough. Ron was smothered with attention by his doting mother who wasn't sure whether to hug or scold him so did both. Mr Weasley spoke to Olive and assured her he was doing all he could to locate her deceased brother's wife. As the friends parted at King's Cross station, Hermione faithfully promised Harry she'd visit him on at least one day to see his little sister who was now one year old, sitting up, and learning to stand.

"And, Hermione, be careful, whatever you're up to," Harry admonished her.

"What makes you think I'm up to anything?" smiled Hermione with a mock-offended tone.

"Hermione, you're always up to something or other. What is it this time? Teaching a dragon to fly? Building a house in space? Getting married to a goblin with three heads?"

"Harry, you'd never believe me if I told you."

With those words, they went their separate ways – he to Grimmauld Place, while she Apparated from an empty waiting room direct to her bell tower in Germany. "Busy, busy, busy..." she muttered to herself as the young girl rested a minute. As she did so, Hermione consulted once more the letter that Ron had given her, and nodded hopefully to herself. Nevertheless, she still had her fingers crossed when she arrived at Devil's Deep.

"Hermione!" squealed Imogene, running forward to embrace her.

"WAIT!" cried the much smaller girl, shocked anew by the astonishing, quivering flesh, and recoiling well back to cast a charm upon her Muggle jeans and top. "I've b–been trying out a d–desensitising charm but it doesn't last more than a few hours. Give it a few seconds to kick in as well."

Imogene wrung her hands and squirmed visibly. ... "Now?"

Hermione nodded. "Now."

They hugged each other a long time. Imogene could not keep back her tears. "Nobody's held me before. It's just like I imagined it from Mama's picture book." Hermione began to choke up a little too. Imogene's innocent nakedness was surreal and overwhelming, but the affection was genuine.

"We have to talk," Hermione said, before gently pulling away.

"This letter is from the Zabini family who have offered to consider taking you into their care for twelve months – I'm hoping longer if all goes well. They own a vast, open estate cared for by elves so you would be free to move about under the open sky without interference or offence. The lady has no husband and her young son is always at Hogwarts except for the summer holidays. If you are willing, I can take you to meet her, but there's no guarantee she'll definitely accept."

Imogene read the letter carefully. "Madam Zabini sounds... cautious, even... reluctant. Her offer would be only to pay off a debt."

"Anyone would be careful about accepting a stranger into their home, but I guarantee they will not ill-use you. She would honour the debt her family owes me, and anyway, the lady, while believing in the complete superiority of pure-blood humans, treats others with respect."

"What was the...? What service did you provide her?"

"I saved her son's life – or at least from a lifetime in a terrible prison for a crime he did not commit. He would certainly have been driven mad and likely died early."

Imogene had looked up from the letter, blinking in astonishment. "You are a good person, Hermione."

But Hermione gave no answer. She was staring past Imogene at Rita Skeeter, who had remained motionless far off to one side of the living area. Imogene followed her gaze and turned around. "Mama died some days ago. I didn't know what to do with..."

"Oh, Imogene, I'm sorry. I wish... that is, I feel awful that you had to remain here with..."

Hermione walked slowly over to the distorted corpse. "Will it be alright if I simply vanish her remains?"

Imogene nodded.

That was the last of Rita Skeeter. Hermione visualised the cadaver inching across the plains of non-being towards a mountain of dead bugs. She shuddered. It was time to go.

"Collect your things and we'll leave this place."

"Things?"

"Your personal possessions."

Imogene appeared confused.

"Have you nothing? Nothing at all?" Hermione winced at the stupidity of her own question. How could Imogene have ever owned anything?

"The quill is Mama's..."

"It's yours now." Hermione glanced briefly at Imogene's obvious lack of pockets. "I'll bring it for you. Anything else?"

Imogene gazed into the darkened sleeping alcove and sighed. "I'll miss reading Mama's book so much... Would it be too much trouble to...?"

"Of course!" smiled Hermione, and Imogene clapped her hands with delight as Hermione continued, "It's yours now and I'm sure the Zabini's will have a vast library of books for you to read."

"Truly?"

"Absolutely guarantee it. If not, I'll provide you with all the books you could ever want. You'll be able to curl up in a nice cosy armchair and..." Hermione flapped one hand over her mouth, visualising Imogene's tender bottom reacting to the fabric. "Imogene, where do you sleep?"

"I have my own corner," said Imogene proudly, walking over to a depression in the wall within which lay a crumpled sheet of what appeared to be light animal hide.

"What is that?" mused Hermione, half to herself, leaning to finger the material. Close up, it shimmered with faint rainbow colours, reminding her of Lily's shawl, and how she had blown her last breath upon the Tapestry of Life woven by the Fates.

"That was my chrysalis. I pupated right there."

"We'll take it. Perhaps we might learn from the material, and leather armchairs could be safe for you." Hermione brightened up excitedly. "We can do this, Imogene! We can do it!"

.

Sublime Avatar

Although Hermione had explained in her letter to Madam Zabini about Imogen's inability to wear clothing, the smart witch knew that merely reading about Imogene's overt nudity would not prepare anyone for the otherworldly nature of the woman's extreme voluptuousness and sensuality – not gliding naively into one's living room with complete abandon – the maiden simply transcended what was humanly possible. Some preparation was needed.

Immaterial and invisible, they discovered Madam Zabini waiting their arrival in a grand reception room off the main hall. Swiftly, Hermione swept Imogene into an anteroom that gave them some privacy, and there materialised them both.

"Wait here," Hermione whispered softly, and promptly vanished.

The girl had advised Madam Zabini that she would have to Apparate directly into her home, and the wards had been dropped temporarily at the appointed hour. After deliberately using that method in the main hall so that Madam Zabini would hear the sound, Hermione knocked on the door and entered, noting as she did so that her host was as attractive and as pleasing to the eye in her forties as Hermione remembered from her former life. It was obvious where Blaise got his good looks from.

The grand lady rose to greet her but a faint smile gave way to puzzlement when she saw how young Hermione was, and that she was alone. "My son never mentioned your age. His every description suggested someone more mature... your letters too..." She frowned.

"I am as you see me, Madam," replied Hermione, and gave a slight curtsy as was the custom at a first meeting in the ancient houses. "It did not seem appropriate to... that is, I have taken the liberty of placing Imogene in your side room to reduce the uuh... impact." Hermione smiled. "Her appearance does take a lot of getting used to as I cautioned you."

After a few moments, Hermione was relieved to see Madam Zabini's smile return. "I'm sure we can manage." She murmured something that Hermione did not quite hear and an elf appeared briefly then vanished again.

"We?" said Hermione.

"Blaise is here. I insisted he should return and have a say in the matter. He is family after all."

Worry clouded Hermione's face, and she shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good–"

–The door opened and Blaise walked in, hesitated as his eyes alighted on Hermione, then said, "Ah, they're... you're here."

"First, you have something to say, son of mine," said Madam Zabini, quite sternly.

Blaise squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Miss Granger, I regret my former manners in your regard. Mother has kindly reminded me of the dignity and importance of all, despite status. In my defence, I am swayed by the necessity of how I might appear to other Slytherins at Hogwarts, but that is no excuse. I need to keep my distance at school but here I can offer you my unreserved apology for how I have treated you – and other Muggle-borns."

"Apology accepted," smiled Hermione, who already well knew the Zabini stance from her previous incarnation.

"Very well," said Madam Zabini. "Then shall we proceed, Miss Granger?"

A polite nod was Hermione's reply, and, with one additional doubtful glance at Blaise, she walked to the anteroom door and opened it wide. The Zabinis had followed her to the doorway and, despite having steeled themselves for what was expected, both froze – Blaise grabbing at the doorframe to hold himself upright.

Imogene did not curtsy – she knew nothing of employing such grand customs herself – but her eyes widened at the sight of Blaise. "Why, you're a young man! I expected a boy."

Madam Zabini recovered first. "My son is almost fourteen, young woman."

Imogene padded gracefully forward on bare feet across the polished wooden floor towards Blaise. Hermione stared, wishing her own flesh could move like that one day, yet knowing such was not normal; Imogene's form had a ripe lusciousness that was beyond womanhood and almost godlike.

And the goddess shook herself, the breasts appearing to swell even more, and the entire body trembling vigorously. "I need to see you..."

One glance told Hermione that Blaise was utterly, helplessly mesmerised. His mouth was open but no words came out. Imogene gestured that he remove his clothing, and that startled Hermione into action. "Imogene, I've already advised you that–"

"This is beyond you now, Hermione," murmured Imogene in a new, more certain tone, her eyes still riveted only upon Blaise who for the first time tore his eyes away towards his mother.

Madam Zabini struggled to speak firmly but her voice faltered as she said, "If this... person is what I think she is, Blaise ... I will not object if you ... comply ... in fact I recommend it."

"Mother! Miss Granger is here..."

"Even so..."

"What!" cried Hermione. "Madam, you must not allow–"

The simple dark blue house robe slipped to the floor, and the one undergarment that Blaise wore followed it. His dark complexion could not hide the flush in his cheeks, but all eyes were now on Imogene. As she stepped forward, the woman's shoulders and sides shook outwards, as though a pale but sturdy cape was expanding. Two dragonfly wings spread rapidly sideways, flickering with delightful translucent colours that rapidly fogged into opacity. For a few moments a wondrous butterfly with a woman's body was apparent, then those wings too metamorphosed into white, almost feathery, scales, and Imogene lunged up and forward, rising several feet into the air, briefly hovering over Blaise before – arms, legs, and wings wide – the creature plunged onto him.

Overwhelmed, the youth had already been falling backwards, but Imogene's limbs captured him, and the pair sank to the floor, she enfolding him in those feathery pinions until only the rapturous expression on Blaise's face was visible staring upwards.

"Madam, please!" cried Hermione, who was herself struggling to hold back a powerful separating spell.

"You have much to answer for, young lady. We should withdraw and discuss this," was Madam Zabini's only response.

.

Additional Obligation

Madam Zabini shooed Hermione ahead of her then cast a locking charm upon the anteroom door behind them. "Did you know about this? What she was?" demanded the matriarch. "I most certainly cannot shelter this person as payment of our debt."

"She's Veela, isn't she? Some form of Veela? I'm so sorry, Madam. I never saw her morph before."

Madam Zabini snorted. "Veela, you say? She is no Veela. Her pedigree is not even physical! I did wonder when you informed me of her sensitive skin but I never seriously considered... She's a nymph, Miss Granger, and not just any ordinary nymph – of which there are precious few. No, she is of the mystical lineage known as angelus nympha – an angel nymph! And you bring her here into my home! You offer her as if our acceptance might enable my family to pay off a debt!"

"I didn't know, I'm so sorry, Madam."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Madam Zabini sank into an armchair and fanned herself with one limp hand. "Miss Granger, you do us a very great honour the like of which is unheard of. It is said that nymphs were the handmaidens of the gods. But the angel nymphs transcend even that. They have no human ancestry but descend into a suitable host. Always they are born in a lowly place and rise to greatness – serving where needed. The Fates themselves had a hand in this!"

Hermione blinked away the beginnings of tears and stared incredulously at Madam Zabini, who seeing her expression, said, "You're Muggle-born. You don't believe in the Fates?"

Hermione's voice was a reverent whisper. "Oh yes, trust me, I totally believe in them, Madam Zabini."

"Then perhaps you might begin to accept you have now burdened my family with..." Madam Zabini paused as if she herself were only just beginning to realise the import of what had happened. "... a double debt. Yes, the Zabinis are now doubly-indebted to the Grangers."

Hermione's mouth moved silently a few times before she could stammer, "I d–don't understand."

"Take a seat, Miss Granger." She waited until Hermione had done so. "Angel nymphs are infallibly drawn to their one, ideal partner and mate for life – for eternity in this life and the next. Such a consummation is always blessed. My son's future is now certain to be a happy, fruitful one where she is concerned."

"But he's still a child!"

"A curious statement coming from another child." Puzzlement flitted briefly across Madam Zabini's face."We're Italians, Miss Granger. He'll be of age in September and with my consent, he is effectively so right now in such matters as this. She's not his first, you know.

Lucky him, thought Hermione, thinking suddenly of Harry for no reason. "But she's–"

"At the end of her teens? Four years older? Angel nymphs have not the guile of a Veela. They are innocent and completely trustworthy." A sudden thought struck her. "Oh dear! Are you a prude, Miss Granger?"

"No, but..." She stared hard at the locked door.

"It's very unlikely they'll emerge this day. The angel will raise him to the seventh heaven and there they will dwell in harmonious union hour after hour. It is a great privilege that such a one has chosen my son. He'll take the certainty of that completeness back with him to Hogwarts in due course, not missing her, not yearning, but filled with satisfaction – though I'm sure he'll be spending every holiday at home after this and possibly a few weekends if we can arrange it with Dumbledore."

"So you'll accept her? Let her stay? Care for her?"

"Don't you trust me to do so?"

Hermione smiled. "I know the rumours are false. I meant–"

A frown showed on Madam Zabini's brow. "You know? What do you know, Miss Granger?"

"I meant I don't believe the stories about you murdering all your husbands for their gold."

"But you said 'know'. How could you know? Unless..."

Madam Zabini stood up and strode to the hall door where she called to an elf. She did not come back immediately but stared out into the hall, deep in thought. When she finally returned she avoided taking her seat to give herself more stature over Hermione. "I demand that you tell me what you know."

Hermione's mouth fell open. What was going on? "About...?"

"About my former husbands."

"Nothing. I know nothing."

"You're lying, Miss Granger, and you're not very expert in that behaviour – some say that's a sign of lack of practice and therefore indicates honesty, but I'm not so sure."

Hermione sighed. "I heard that you chose husbands who were already dying – ill or cursed or... very old."

Madam Zabini's wand flashed and her chair was drawn closer to Hermione's before she resumed the seat and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Back in Tuscany, the Zabinis were defrauded close to poverty by a group of foul wizards, and my father never recovered from the shame. With my agreement, Mother married me off to an elderly wizard when I was not yet fifteen. All parties understood what was entailed. I made the gentleman's final year a happier one, and in return inherited his modest estate. It was a step in the right direction and I learned much from it. Thereafter I selected husbands not for their healthy vigour but the very opposite. Careful research uncovered those whose mortality was very evident. Each was very grateful for my easing their passing and even willing to surrender their name for mine. The final one – Blaise's father – left me this wonderful manor, and here we remain."

She paused as a house elf dressed in a neat but plain grey dress, brought in a tea tray and left it unserved on a low table summoned from across the room. The creature departed as quickly and silently as she had appeared.

Madam Zabini poured and watched as Hermione took a few sips and had put down her cup to let it cool, before asking, "Miss Granger, I've never told another living soul what I've told you today, not Blaise, not even my mother knew most of it, and she's long since passed away. So, my question remains: how did you know? I am certain that nobody has searched my mind. You couldn't have known. It's impossible. Not unless..."

Hermione took several more sips of tea but said nothing.

"You Apparated here yet you are very much underage for such a licence. Presumably you even brought Imogene here using Side-along Apparition yet there was no sound from the appear only twelve or thirteen yet–"

"–I'm the same age as Blaise –" protested Hermione, careful not to slurp tea down her chin. "– fourteen in Sept–"

"–yet you sound far more mature than one so young."

"I see things." Hermione put down her tea with a clatter. "All my friends know. Oh, I'm not a true seer but I must have envisioned reading about you – or dreamed it."

"Never in writing," mused Madam Zabini. "and how could you dream of me telling you in the future that's not yet happened, I wonder?"

She drank tea for a while, watching Hermione closely over the rim of her cup.

"I'm a great student of magical lore and history, Miss Granger. It is written that an angelus nympha is always heralded by a great one. Are you that one? Might you even be–?"

CRASH!

Madam Zabini's cup had fallen back onto its saucer and she'd staggered to her feet, visibly agitated. "I hereby swear on my magic that I shall never repeat my history to you or tell anyone else!"

For long moments they glared defiantly at each other, matriarch and minor, until finally Madam Zabini burst out, "Merlin's Bones, you've lived this before, haven't you? It's the only explanation because I cannot have told you in this life, past or future. Have you? Lived before? Is it possible? Have you? I shall not rest until I know."

Hermione threw down her own cup as she jumped to her feet, wand drawn. "Madam, you force my hand! Only concern for Imogene holds me back. I demand payment of one of your debts to the House Granger!"

Madam Zabini had never been quite so dark of skin as her son, and now she paled even more. "Then it's true..."

The imposing lady turned her back and walked away a few paces to silently think through what she'd discovered. Hermione watched, uncertain how to respond other than to wait. Finally, Madam Zabini returned and, to Hermione's astonishment, sank submissively to her knees. "I am privileged to live at this turning point in history, Miss Granger, and to kneel before you. Ask anything of me, and if it is in my power, it shall be done."

Shocked, mute, Hermione stared blankly at the head of House Zabini paying her such homage. Several long seconds passed before she recovered.

"Madam, I intend to penetrate to your most secret memories. You must resist with all your might. Prove to me that my secret is safe with you and swear to it."

"I swear on my–"

Hermione gave her no warning. Madam Zabini felt as if her mind was being hit by a magical sandbag. Gasping, she clutched her head in pain and bent to the task of fighting off the Legilimens attack. Her endurance was formidable but needed no longer than half a minute to prove her defensive powers...

"Enough!" Hermione helped Madam Zabini to her feet. "You do not need to swear, just give me your word."

"You have it. Your secret is safe with me."

"And yours with me," agreed Hermione before continuing, "There will come a time when your support in the Wizengamot would be welcome. You will not be asked to compromise any of your deepest convictions."

Madam Zabini nodded. "Anything else?"

"Research. We are agreed that Magicals have powers superior to Muggles. What you do not know is that Muggles have different abilities far superior to Magicals."

A frown appeared on Madam Zabini's brow.

Hermione responded, "Do you know Mike Worthing, the entrepreneur?"

"I know of him."

"Consult with him. You will need to approach Mike through his business address. I'll owl him that you're coming. Do not mention my real name. Give him my alias Rosemary Brown. Tell him that I request the two of you undertake regular discussions on the areas of Muggle superiority until you fully understand."

"To what purpose?"

Hermione replied, "If you also contact Jop Gair – covertly, not openly, at the Ministry – you will learn something of our future plans and where you might assist us."

"Us?"

"We call ourselves The Cathesis League. If the time comes when you are in agreement with our aims then you will be invited to join."

Madam Zabini let out a long breath. "Anything more?"

"Am I right in thinking you will accept Imogene?"

"As one of our own. She's a Zabini now in all but name."

For the next hour they discussed how Imogene would live, her freedoms and obligations, her tuition and guidance, and which materials might be enchanted to provide her with suitable attire – even if it were needed only briefly.

Finally, Hermione took her leave. The visit had been far more eventful and productive than she'd ever considered.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Thanks to Artur Hawkwing1 for reminding me about Ron's mum's reaction. Probably she would have rushed to Hogwarts but I've not mentioned that in this fic because it's not central to the story, so just imagine that happening offstage. I have shown her making regular contact by owl, and Ron does go home for Easter (again, offstage.)

Kudos (but no house points) to bexis1 for realising it must be the Zabini family who take in Imogene.

JuliSt mentioned that Ron was pretty harsh describing Hermione. I see her more how JKR thought of her and not as in the movie. She won't blossom out until Book 4. I'm not sure yet what to do about her teeth because in my fic she deliberately didn't fix them, wanting to appear plain, uninteresting, and not draw attention. Ron does like Hermione in this – probably more than in the original, but finds it laughable anyone would consider her pretty – she isn't at this stage. His response might also suggest a hint that his interests lie elsewhere? Was he sending Olive a message?

xxxLeanniexxx considers the Black Arc would now take notice of Ron. The answer is no, as will be seen later in the story.

I'm now vaguely aimed to update every 10.5 days which is 2 updates every 3 weeks for you non-mathematicians. So, alternate Thursdays and Sundays. That's more realistic for me. If I get further ahead then I might increase that rate to weekly again.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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